Every thought you intended,
vortices causes me pain in my chest.
My hell t’illumina
with flames on the opposite reason,
oh woman,
I am under the thumb of your mortal prison and
my thoughts for the good is at fault.
You,
only name in which it is intended please,
show compassion to my humble belief.
Wire rhymes ink on white meadow,
to reincarnate the beauty that adorns you,
but my suffering is silent your mouth,
leaving the red lip naked,
in the grip of my desire of man.
Glimpse of another world,
in my hell on earth,
My Goddess,
show me a different way to your heart,
from Alzheimer torrid sentimental that consumes me.
Give me a ‘footprint kiss,
to stop languish as the wave
the banks of a lost paradise,
caressed by a sea of her indifferent,
although immensely under blue
discrete if the sky mirrored in him.
Oh, My Concubine abstract
My own feeling sick and flight
in the certainty that death could arrive,
soon joined my skin mortal
in a single seraphic body.